My Main Man
by InkyPawz07
Summary: Beat up, broken down and abused. When there's no love around you, even from your own family, where do you turn? Life alone as a teen is something no one is ready for, but you have to do what you have to do, sometimes with a little help from the ones that do love you.
1. Chapter 1

"How the hell am I supposed to answer this sh*t!?"

Kenny grumbled, swatting the paper away and chucking the pencil halfway across the room. I tugged his parka collar.

"Yeesh, calm down Ken. Language, man!"

He shook his head defiantley.

"No way. We're doing this McCormick style."

He retrieved the pencil, writing in huge letters,

"Answer yourself, BI-ATCH!"

I smacked the top of his head.

"Nice job, Kenny. You're getting another paper on Monday."

I ordered, not waiting for a reply.

"Aw, c'mon Stan... Just let it slide. Just a tiny little F."

He smirked, then gave me the cute face he always used to try and make you swoon. I tugged his parka hood forward.

"Nope. 'The Face' doesn't work with me, Kenneth."

He groaned, falling backward onto the floor.

"Uhhhhgh you sound like my mom. Only, a whole lot sweeter."

Kenny grumbled, turning his flirt on. Not that it was really ever off, if it was it was a rare occurence. I felt myself awkwardly blush at his calling me 'sweet."

I nearly shook my head, trying to push the awkward thoughts away. He walked over to my bed with his usual butt-swagger and buried his face into the pillow, emmiting an exhausted moan. He began to babble a few unreadable words, the only three I caught onto being 'I love you.'

Staring wide eyed, I stammered,

"W-w-what?"

"Oh nothing, just talking to myself. 'Bout waffles."

With Kenny, there was really no telling whether he was being sarcastic or not at any given time.

"A-Are you sure?"

Kenny stared, raising a brow.

"Uh, yeah. Pretty sure, man."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. 'Are you sure?' Seriously, Stan? What the hell? Kenny rolled around on my bed uncomfortably like a tard, obviously having some Kenny issues. I hopped over him and onto my side of the bed. A thought popped into my head, and I turned to face him.

"You could probably sleep here tonight. I can go downstairs and ask. You wanna call your parents?"

I asked hopefully, chucking my cellphone into his hand.

"Nah man, my parents couldn't give two shits about me."

He shook his head solemnly. I shot him a pitiful look. That was where I felt bad for Kenny, like he deserved much better, and I wished I could make up for all that somehow. I trudged downstairs, getting approval from my mother. I stumbled back up the stairs.

"Ken,you descent?"

I joked before opening the door.

"You'll have to wait and see."

He called from inside. I threw the door open and walked in, unfazed by his comment. Kenny's dry humor was always one of his most charming traits. To my surprise, and immediate embarrassment, he sat idly on the side of my bed with only boxers on, yawning and swinging his legs back and forth over the side. I looked away and started rummaging through my closet.

"My mom said you can stay tonight. You want a shirt or something, Ken?"

He shrugged.

"Nah, Im cool with these."

He gestured to his boxers. I nodded, slipping my jeans off uncomfortably.

"Yeah, it is kinda hot in here."

"Tell me about it..."

I shook my head, laughing.

"Oh my god, Kenny..."

I pulled off my T-shirt.

"Hope you're talking about your waffles again."

He nodded.

"Oh yeah, totally."

I flopped onto my bed, giving a grunt as I landed.

"You sleeping up here tonight, Ken?"

He yawned, nodding. Turning the lamp off, I asked,

"You wouldn't mind if I slept up here, would you? No homo."

I promised, laughing. Kenny raised a hand to his heart, crossing it and laughed along.

"No homo."

He could barely get the words out from laughing so hard.

* * *

I awoke the next morning nearly mouth to mouth with someone. I gasped and sat up, realizing it was only Kenny. I had gotten barely any sleep, all due to Kenny practically straddling me, and mumbling perverted things his sleep. Guess he wasn't perverted only while he was concious. I shook Kenny awake. He stirred and mumbled a little. Cute. Wait, what did I just say?

"Hey...Morning Stan."

His expression changed and he poked my cheek with a concerned look.

"Jesus, you look so tired. You get any sleep last night?"

I raised a tired brow, yawning.

"It's kind of hard when you're being straddled in the middle of the night."

Kenny seemed to have no blush whatsoever. He gazed out the window and chuckled.

"Yeah, I do that sometimes."

"Proud of it, huh?"

"Yeah, not exactly, Stanley. Are you a woman?... Never mind, I don't want an answer."

I eventually found myself studying all of Kenny's features. His blonde hair was wilder than usual, presumably from all his rolling around. My eyes moved down to his nicely muscled arms, and down to his mild 6 pack. I suddenly realized that up close, Kenny's entire chest was plastered with scars and bruises. I skipped down to his legs, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with the studying of his battle scars. Feeling watched, I gazed up to see Kenny checking me out a little as well. He, however didn't skip my butt, and anyone who knew Kenny could assume he wouldn't. He gazed at me with his baby blue eyes and smiled. I leapt up from the bed uncomfortably, and rushed down the stairs for breakfast, with Kenny following close behind. A box of chocolate poptarts lay on the table, along with a note and 2 two plates.

'**Gone to the store. Be right back!**

**Mom xoxo'**

I moved the note and popped the poptarts in the toaster. Kenny moved to the fridge, opening the freezer. He rummaged through it with wide eyes.

"Oh my f*cking god, **waffles!"**

"Kenny!"

I scolded, pointing a finger.

"Watch your mouth! I've never seen someone so over excited about waffles."

Kenny shrugged, replying,

"Yeah, well, I guess this is your first."

The poptarts flew out of the toaster, two waffles taking it's place. I smacked Kenny's hand that was resting on the lever.

"The hell, Kenny? Wait a minute! Jesus!"

He pulled his hand away, rubbing it a little like a four year old. He smirked and stuck out his tongue.

"Cold poptarts aren't that bad, Stan. Trust me, when you live without a microwave, everything cold turns out good."

I glanced down, feeling quite guilty. I chewed on my just barely warm poptart, letting him toast the waffles, drool practically stringing from his mouth in eagerness. Smiling, I finished the last of my poptart, pulling out a seat next to me for Kenny.

"Go ahead and sit, I'll get it."

I offered, whisking him off to the table. I grabbed the tin of butter and whipped around, holding the butter up.

"How much you want?"

Kenny shifted in the seat.

"Oh, um, you can just put it on the table, I'll put it on myself. Thanks though."

Nodding, I pulled the scorching waffles out of the toaster, trying not to show any signs of pain. I set everything down in front of Kenny, a smile plastered on his face. As I turned, I was interrupted by a soft voice.

"Thanks, Stan."

I gave a small grin, nodding. To anyone but Kenny, this wouldn't be an enormous deal. But with Kenny, even a simple breakfast like this was a blessing. All the other children in the neighborhood had everything they could ever want, and Kenny had nothing. An idea hit me, and I ran to the stairs.

"Be right back Ken!"

He mumbled something, inaudible presumably from the huge mouthful of waffle. I ran to my nightstand, grabbing a large wad of money and stuffed it into my jacket pocket. I hopped back down the stairs, and halted in the middle of the hall, bursting into laughter. In the 20 seconds I was gone, Kenny had already finidshed. Kenny stood at the sink with a sheepish grin and empty plate, so blank that if you didn't know better, you'd think it was already clean. I took the plate from his hand, dropping it into the sink and placed my other hand on his shoulder. Kenny stared in confusion until he realized what I had in my hand. He laid a thumb on the wad of bills, glancing down, then back up at me.

"I can't do that, Stan..."

I cut him off, smiling and shaking my head.

"You're gonna have to."

Kenny gave a giggle, taking the money a bit slowly.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Kenny."

Kenny pounced into my arms, hugging me tightly. I squeaked out of surprise, and smiled in his arms. He pulled away and ran back upstairs, coming back downstairs with his classic orange parka on and the same pair of pants from the day before. I raised a brow, asking him where he was going.

"Duh,"

He began.

"We're going shopping!"

* * *

I was practically hugging myself, the weather being unusually cold today. Kenny gazed in the store windows like a kid in a candy shop, beaming with excitement. He had never been shopping before with his own money, and I felt pretty happy making this his first possible experience. He seemed to rush quite eagerly into clothing stores. Most of my friends would have practically murdered one another to try and be the first inside Game Stop, obviously Kenny was one for looking smexy. Not that that was a problem, however. It only enhanced Kenny's features. Being one of his boy buddies, I can say that Kenny is quite attractive, his ice blue eyes really stood out against his nearly strawberry blonde hair. My thoughts traced back to his abusive, disfunctional family. How could anyone **not** love Kenny, needless to say at least want him _around? _My thoughts were broken by something being shoved into my face. I backed away to clearly see what it was. Kenny peeked out from behind the item with a smile.

"You like? Think it's a definite buy?"

It was a deep gray T-shirt, blotched with what looked like someone spilled white paint all over it. The design looked like it would fit him rather well.

"Whatever you want, Ken. It's your money, now. I, for one, think it fits you perfectly."

Kenny was beaming, like a tween girl at the mall. He ran off into the store, leaving me to sit on the bench. What seemed like 5 minutes later, he plopped down next to me on the bench holding a large paper bag. I pryed open the sides, attempting to look inside.

"Whatcha got?"

He slipped the bag away, pointing a finger.

"Nuh-uhhh! You shall not know until we get back to your place!"

I shook my head with a grin.

"Whatever you say Ken."

During our walk back to my house, I puzzled over what Kenny could have bought, pondering even more over how much 'fashion sense' he had, considering he had barely anything for clothes. When we arrived, Kenny anticipatedly ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, with the audible crash of the bag hitting the floor. Moments later, my bedroom door opened, and in walked an entirely new person. I gawked in amazement of how incredible Kenny looked in the new clothes, aside from the raggedy, nearly 10-year old clothes he'd always had on. His neck sported a deep black bandana, tied at the side of his neck, which hung over the neck of the white-splotched tee, which emphasized his forearm muscles exceptionally. Light blue torn jeans hung just below his ankles, a dark brown belt keeping the baggy jeans against his waist. Finally, a black braided bracelet clung to his right wrist. I wondered how he had managed to work that on. My jaw was practically hitting the floor.

"W-Wow Ken. You look like a totally different person. In a good way, that is."

He punched my arm and pulled me into a one arm bro-hug.

"Couldn't be this guy I am now without you, my man."

I smiled, squeezing my arm around him.

"It was no problem."

Our attention switched to the door as it was flung open.


	2. Chapter 2

My sister appeared in the doorway, immediately gawking at Kenny's toned body. Kenny's arm left my shoulders, and switched to his sides, thumbs in his pockets. Shelly looked back at me with a smirk.

"Did I just walk in on homo action?"

She chuckled hysterically, gaining a small, nasally snicker from Kenny. My face burned in anger.

"No, you did not walk in on **homo-action,** Shelly! Get out of here!"

I threw the nearest thing I could find her way, and she dodged, a smile still plastered on her acne-prone face.

"When you've got **this** standing in your room?"

Shelly snickered, gesturing to Kenny, once again gaining a smile from Kenny.

"I would be getting down to some **serious** homo-action if I had this in my room!"

I balled my fists, trying to ventilate my anger.

"Yeah well, that's a little different, you're a girl. It wouldn't be homo. I, for one, am a **guy**, if you haven't noticed, Sherlock! So yeah, I'm not as attracted as you."

My sister shifted uncomfortably, presumably from my owning her 5 seconds ago.

"Oh..."

She gave a smirk.

"Not **as** attracted...?"

I chucked another unknown item at her, this time hitting her on the forehead. She grunted, storming out of my room as quickly as she'd arrived. Kenny scratched the back of his neck, turning to me.

"Dude, you're sister is way too straightforward for her own good."

I scoffed, raising a brow.

"Try living with her."

* * *

I cringed as I turned the knob to the front door of my delapitated house, ready for it to creak and for my parents to practically assault me for being out late. Since when did they care where I was? It never mattered unless it gave them an excuse to harm me in any way. I snuck inside, literally on my toes, attempting to head towards the stairs. I sighed quietly in relief. All was good! I suddenly crashed to the floor, what I guessed to be a vodka bottle slipping out from under my feet. One word came to my head.

**Run.**

Just as I heard my parents bedroom door open, I did just that. I skidded toward the door, grasping the knob and turning it with all my might. I felt like I was running from a pack of hungry wolves that were about to tear me to shreds. I shrieked as a steady, strong hand grabbed my shoulder,, squeezing with all its might. I whipped around, face to face with my father. I growled, my fists ready up in front of my face.

"You think you're so f*cking tough, Kenneth?"

Alright, now my father was sounding like a school bully. He was damn good at it, he could certainly pass for one. He shoved my back into the door, and I retaliated, flipping him around and grinding him into the cabinets with a crash. I was thrown forward onto the floor, the smell of his vodka breath made me want to vomit. A small portion of my arm was split open, moderately bleeding. I hollered profanities at him as I leapt back up, shoving him back. My face suddenly throbbed with pain, my eye felt as if it was going to pop right out of the socket. My eye had been punched violently. At the acknowledgement of this, I snarled and ran for the door. I hesitated, and mumbled,

"I'm not giving up, this is ending here. One's going down."

I remembered my pocketknife I had bought with Stan's money, whipped around, and held it out threateningly. I thrust my arm back, about ready to stab. A voice suddenly hollered in the back of my mind.

'You are not a murderer, Kenneth.'

I let my arm down shakily, and rushed out the door, and into the pouring rain. I needed to stay somewhere, and it certainly wasn't going to be here anymore.

* * *

STAN'S POV

A loud knock came to the door, audible from all the way up the stairs. I leapt out of bed roggily to answer the door. My mouth dropped at the sight in front of me. Now I was awake. It looked as if I had a serial killer at my doorstep. Abruptly, I realized who it was, from the tell-tale blonde locks and ice blue eyes. His face was corrupted with blood and bruises.

"Kenny?! What the heck happened!?"

I lead him inside, sure I knew the answer. He slipped out a pocket knife, making me screech, thinking for a moment he had lost his mind and was going to kill me. I knew Kenny better, and came to hasty conclusions.

"Y-your parents... **_Y-you didn't!_**_"_

He chuckled, and shook his head.

"Should've, would have, could have. But I'm no murderer, Stan. I'm never going back again. The only thing I'm going back for tomorrow is my sister, but after that, never again."

I gasped.

"Karen's still in that hellhole!?"

Kenny gave an ashamed nod.

"I would have been killed if I hadn't gotten out when I had. Swear to god."

I lead Kenny upstairs, and into the bathroom.

"Here, you take a shower, my parents won't mind if you stay the night."

* * *

KENNY'S POV

I swept my hair back under the warm, massaging water jets of the shower. It felt so nice after everything I'd been through, and was just soft enough on all my bruises and scars not to put me through anymore pain. I felt like I could stay under the water forever, just sitting there under the soothing water that trickled generously over every inch of my bare body. Completely understanding the economic needs and advantages of bills, I solemnly turned of the shower, barely drying off before throwing on my T-shirt and boxers. I trudged into Stan's room and threw a few spare sheets on the floor, readily curling up. I was pulled up gently by a muscular arm and pulled onto the bed next to a warm body. Stan threw the covers over us and shut off the baseball lamp he'd had since we were eight years old. I curled up against his back, all the pain of my abused and beaten body seeming to ease away.

**A/N: Thanks for reading guys! Leave some reviews, they're greatly appreciated! Helps me figure out whether to keep these or not! Haha**


	3. Chapter 3

Dim light crept slowly into the walls of Stan's bedroom, soft enough so it was manageable for my tired, exhausted eyes. The silhouette of dusks new light accented a half of Stan's sleeping face, his prominent features being slightly masked by not only his raven hair. Although it hung carelessly over his eyes, you could clearly see the dark lashes of his closed eyes as well as his thin, noirette brows. His thin face and cheeks were being cradled in his hands, which were crammed between his temples and the barely-supportive pillow under his head.

Being the poor kid who never had anything good in his life except for friends he didn't understand why he had, I couldn't foresee why sleeping on such a thin pillow would be a problem, but Stan had made his point **very **clear that I wasn't allowed to live like that. He insisted that I take the puffed-up, down-filled pillow he had always slept on. And it was surprisingly comfortable, although the change in routine did a number on my neck in the morning.

"Agh... Neck hurts like a _bitchhhh_..."

I groaned, sitting up from my position and kicking the covers off. I swung my legs over the side, my chest feeling awkwardly bare. Another dramatic change in routine, although I **was **wearing a T-Shirt. It's not like I was gonna give Stan the satisfaction of seeing this bod! Why not be courteous to a man's sanity; he would have lost it anyways like he'd just seen slenderman or something.

A cold blast of air hit my arms as I sat up, and I instantly regretted throwing the blankets off. I threw myself at his closet, rummaging through it like a starved homeless guy who just found a trashcan full of fresh leftovers. Hauling it open, I gritted my teeth at the terrible screech it made on his wooden floor. Never in my life had I thought Stan's closet would sound like a dying dolphin when you opened it.

"Sweatshirt! Sweatshirt!"

I called dramatically, throwing my arms this way and that. My desperate calls apparently woke 'Sleeping Beauty', as my peripheral vision caught Stan's body jolting forward from the shitty pillow under his head. I continued to rummage through an endless heap of boxes, labeled 'Stan's Stuff', littered in red marker with a bunch of bullcrap Kyle, Cartman and I had drawn when we were younger._ Huh. He still had this...?_ Throwing item after item onto his floor, I began mumbling a bunch of insults I wouldn't have said to Stan unless I wanted my bruises and aches on my body to be added to. I decided to make my point known with a little lighter of a tone, hoping he wouldn't take it as badly as Kyle would. (You couldn't say two words to that kid without him taking it as some kind of insult.)

"Jesus, someone fetch the defibrilators, I think Stan's having a heart attack. Dude, don't you have any freakin' sweatshirts here? Are you eskimo or what? Some of us don't exactly like living in an imitation of Antarctica, pal."

I complained, the topics changing more rapidly than leaves of a tree in a damn tornado. Quite fast, my friend, quite fast. If it didn't take the limbs off first. But enough deep thought about metaphors!

Stan's face distorted, and I could tell he had definitely taken it as a personal attack. Nevertheless, he raised his shoulders, giving out a huge, mother-of-all yawns.

"I don't pay the heat bills, Ken. Nor am I one to tamper with the thermostats. Just be thankful I let you stay here."

I snorted at his very sincere assurance, although I knew his words were completely legitimate. I'll admit, I hate to be corrected of disproved. I also hated giving anyone the satisfaction of knowing they're right. Coming to my aid, I guessed, Stan rose from his position under the comforter of his bed, slugging his way over to me. His slender form knelt beside me, his skinny arms reaching into the closet, and it was at that moment I got the funniest (from my point of view) yet meanest idea ever. As he leaned a little farther into the closet, I took advantage of his averted gaze from myself and nudged him inside, just enough to make sure he stumbled forward.

"Mph! Hey, bastar-"

A wave of satisfaction washing over me as I held back giggles, I whipped around to face the other way, backing with all my might into the closet door and hearing it screech shut. It was now that I realized I could giggle and cackle all I wanted, and I did just that. Beginning to double over in laughter, I wiped tears from my eyes with the side of my hand, my stomach heaving. It was even beginning to hurt, the thought of my next joke unbearabley hilarious. My weight on the door was definitely weakening as the laughs wracked my muscles, but I was still heavier than he could push out of the way.

"Hey! Kenny, you bitch!"

He punched the door of the closet, it's force **almost** knocking me forward and setting him free. Nevertheless, I continued to cackle and howl with laughter amidst my efforts to calm myself for the next phase of the situation. I stuttered his name a few times through neverending laughter, attempting to start a new conversation.

"S-Stan... It must be this hard all the time to try and come out, huh?"

I tried saying with my best poker face, coming as well with the neutral voice, only failing it with more hooting laughter. I could only imagine the blush on his face at this moment.

"Kenny! God damn it!"

At this final comment, I removed my weight from the door, hopping to the side just in time to watch him burst out and stumble forward. He growled and swept his hands briefly across his knees, almost primly, rising back to his feet once again to get what he deserved: revenge. And I'm not saying it wasn't understandable. A sudden hand on my chest brought me out of my giggle fits, and I grunted as I hit the carpet with a well timed thud. My noirette friend fell over top of me, grunting as well as he too **nearly** hit the floor. If it weren't for me acting as a cushion, that was. His brows knitted together as we found ourselves nose to nose, his emotions turning quickly from a scowl to paralysis.

"I knew you couldn't resist me, Stanny-Boy!"

I chuckled instigatingly, trying to use my best libidinous voice. Much to my pleasure, he scrambled off me, his face dusted with crimson. Impressively enough, however, he hesitated before taking a very unnecessary mother leap off me, but instead got up gradually as to act like it was 'no big deal.' Like we _hadn't _just practically sucked face. Literally sucked face. And I'm not talking romantic, smoochy kind of sucking face. I'm talking like mouth-to-mouth recessitation.

Did he honestly think I _couldn't _read emotions? Perhaps it was a way of stepping out of the area that was embarrassment. I had been with several women since the preschool, for God's sake. I was a ladies' man from the start. But, never exactly a man's man... But being a dude, I understood his emotions. Well.

Acting as if it _**didn't **_shake him, even a little, ruined all my fun. I preferred to see any individual in awkward, uncomfortable situations and positions. I adored observing their reactions, some being cool while others; such as the spazzious Tweak Tweek; being reckless. There was a different reaction for every individual and party, which was why the reason to observe never diminished.

And teasing Stan was the funnest thing I'd ever taken to, and I didn't plan to stop any time soon.

**A/N **

**I so didn't wanna stop here! Wanted to write you guys an hour worth of reading, but I've got this speech for school I gotta memorize, and the whole lotta that crud... :I I do apologize for the long wait. Something just fell upon me today and made me really wanna update!**

**Until Next Time,**

**Inkyz. :P Luvz youz all!**


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